


Turn Your Lights Down Low and Honey, Slip Me a Kiss, Right Now

by LadyChi



Series: The Soundtrack of Our Lives is an Old Jazz Record [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyChi/pseuds/LadyChi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where: Darcy and Steve make a decision, Tony and Pepper gossip, Natasha visits Bucky, and Jane gets her Thor back. </p>
<p>The fluff before the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Your Lights Down Low and Honey, Slip Me a Kiss, Right Now

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Etta James classic, "Just a Little Bit". Because that is a song about getting laid. And this is the chapter where EVERYONE gets laid. Well. Mostly everyone. 
> 
> Also, I really and truly apologize for Bucky's language. He uses a word which is offensive to a lot of people. But I don't believe in softening the edges of broken characters, and it's meant to be offensive. So. There's that.

Darcy came to a decision while Steve was snoring, one leg thrown over top of hers, one arm over her chest.   
  
Which, okay, was actually probably a good thing. A super human he might be, but he still needed sleep, personal aversion to it aside, and he didn’t get enough of it. He would crawl into bed with her, let her drift off, and then go elsewhere -- he read, he boxed, he cleaned her kitchen. He went grocery shopping.   
  
And then only when he absolutely had to would he collapse next to her, throw one arm over her and drop effortlessly into sleep. Sometimes his dreams were riddled with nightmares, in the way of soldiers. But sometimes his sleep was undisturbed, obviously peaceful.   
  
Like today.  
  
But the other thing about Steve sleeping was that he was sleeping in her bed. Which was not... large. And he was sleeping on top of her. And he was large.   
  
Everything about him was large, actually. His feet, which meant his shoes on her floor were large. His pants were large and his shirts were large. His sweaters’ weight could be measured in pounds. And all of that meant that there was less room in her closet for, you know. Her sweaters and pants and shirts.  
  
And more of his stuff had made its way from his apartment in Brooklyn to her closet in Manhattan, crowding in her space. And for the first few months it had been downright cozy. Grown-up. _Aw, lookit his shit. Next to my shit. It’s like we’re a couple and shit._  
  
But it had evolved. And Darcy’s inner commentator had moved on. _His shit is everywhere. And so is my shit._ But the very last thing she wanted was for Steve or his stuff to go away, so that eventually became _We need a new (bigger) place and shit. Together. Officially._  
  
It seemed like the kind of thought that should scare her, actually. It had big, grown-up connotations with serious undertones of... commitment. Something that had given her hives with every other guy she’d dated. But then, every other guy wasn’t Steve. Steve, who was rock solid down to his core, who had yet to balk at anything (in the bedroom or out of it), who seemed to appreciate her sarcasm... Not that he was perfect. Of course he wasn’t. But she liked that he wheeze/snored when he was really far gone, that he sometimes took life a little too seriously, and that things like hip-hop completely baffled him.   
  
That being said, the future was something they only ever discussed in hazy “somedays”, and Darcy wasn’t sure how he’d feel about officially cohabitating before they had a more permanent... arrangement. He still went to church, and sometimes his old-fashioned nature popped up at weird times... he opened doors for her, he balked at her paying for meals... but he wasn’t the least bit racist or homophobic.  
  
For someone so solid, he was sometimes frustratingly unpredictable.   
  
“I can hear you thinking over there,” Steve said in her ear.  
  
“You’re awake.”  
  
“Hm. Just.” And he did that adorable thing he did where he snuggled her in closer and breathed in her scent right at the crook of her neck and his nose tickled her in the right spot and her stomach melted into something warm and soothing. She rolled over kissed him, making a face at his morning breath, making him laugh.  
  
“Sorry that I woke you.” She played with his bangs. They were getting a touch long -- one of the side effects of the serum they’d given him was a super-fast metabolism which led to things like twice-weekly haircuts for Steve, who kept his hair military-short.   
  
“Hm. I don’t think you did. I got a couple of hours. I’m good. You, on the other hand, have on a serious face. Which you don’t normally wear before three or four cups of coffee.”   
  
“I was just turning some stuff over in my head. You know, the way that you do.”   
  
“Mm.” Steve had an allergy to lounging around in bed all day, so he pushed himself up and tossed the covers off.  
  
“Ah, jeez,” Darcy moaned, cuddling deeper into the quilt. “You know this quilt loses ninety-five percent of its effectiveness when you leave.”   
  
“What do you do when I’m not here?”   
  
Darcy smirked. “I shiver with loneliness, Steve. I shiver.”   
  
Steve snorted and tossed the afghan from the end of the bed on top of her. “Want some coffee?”   
  
“I would be willing to trade some pretty intense sexual favors for a single cup of coffee right now.”   
  
Steve raised his eyebrows. “Is this an offer you extend to all the guys?”   
  
“Just the ones who wear blue spangled spandex as part of their work uniform. What can I say? It’s a kink.”   
  
Steve bent down and cradled her head in his hand, lifting her up for a deep kiss.   
  
“Whoa, tiger,” Darcy said, “I said we’d do the kinky stuff after the coffee.”   
  
“It just hits me at weird times,” Steve muttered.  
  
“What?”  
  
“How much I love you.”   
  
“Ah, Jesus, Steve, what am I supposed to do about your gorgeous face and those gorgeous eyes and...” Darcy tugged on his arm. “Forget the coffee. We’re doing the kinky stuff now.”   
  
**  
  
  
Jane Foster woke with a terrible headache. But then, she usually did, when she’d gone for days without sleeping and then crashed. It was tempting to go back to sleep and see if another three or four hours would put her completely right, but there was something humming in the back of her mind. Something important. Something...  
  
 _Oh._  
  
She hurtled herself out of bed, catching her toe on a nightstand she swore hadn’t been there the last time she slept there. She cursed a blue streak and shoved her toes into slippers and threw on a cardigan.  
  
JARVIS pinged, just as she was about to leave her apartment.   
  
“I’m sorry, Dr. Foster, but you asked me to remind you if you left your quarters without your keys, after the last incident.”   
  
“Right. Yes, thank you. Did you see where I...”   
  
“Miss Lewis says they are on the kitchen counter, Dr. Foster.”   
  
“You’re a lifesaver, JARVIS. Thanks so much.”   
  
If an AI could sniff, that’s what she would have called the sound JARVIS made. “At least someone appreciates me. You’re quite welcome, Dr. Foster.”   
  
She couldn’t help but smile as she grabbed her keys and locked the apartment door behind her to build a bridge between worlds.  
  
The Darcy voice inside of her head cackled. _Build a bridge between worlds to get **laid** , you mean._  
  
Jane shrugged as she walked down the hallway to her lab. There were worse reasons to science.  
  
**  
  
Most people made their worst decisions in the middle of the night. There were good reasons for it, Natasha knew. Exhaustion, the way the stillness of the night crept in and made everything just a little bit lonier, a little more desperate.  
  
But Natasha had cut her teeth in the night. She made measured, careful decisions when the sun went down.  
  
It was when the sun was rising that Natasha tended to throw caution to the wind.   
  
No one stopped her on her way down to the SHIELD detention center. Not that she would have listened to anyone who had, but it might have been a nice sign from the universe that what she was about to do was a bad idea.  
  
But then again, maybe it wasn’t. Natasha had lived a long time. And she lived long enough inside her broken and scarred brain to know that predicting how scarred and broken brains would react to things was haphazard at best.  
  
Tony Stark had once used an American idiom she found she had a lot of fondness for. _Some people, Natasha, you can tell ‘em: don’t stick your finger in that light socket, it’ll hurt like a motherfucker. And, you know, they’ll listen. And then there’s people like me. And people like me? We’ve just got piss on the electric fence for ourselves._  
  
“Apt, Natasha,” she muttered as she found herself in the hallway once again. “You know this is going to hurt.”   
  
“Or it might not,” Agent Coulson said, turning the corner. “Saw you on the security feed. I figured you were on your way down here.”   
  
Natasha narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “You saw me and you did nothing to stop me?”  
  
“You had a particular look on your face. It’s a look I try not to put innocent agents in the way of -- people who don’t realize you’re not a sociopath tend to take it the wrong way.”   
  
Natasha’s lips twitched. “But you know better?”   
  
Coulson shrugged. “I have a little more experience reading your moods. And I just survived a fatal stab wound so...”   
  
“So you’ll risk the wrath of the Black Widow,” Natasha finished.   
  
“Hm. Exactly.” Phil gestured behind him. “You should go say hello. He remembers who you are.”   
  
“He does?”   
  
“Pieces, a bit. He knows he was in love with a red-headed operative. He knows he was manipulated, that he was betrayed. The other pieces... Eh. It’s hard to say.”   
  
“This sounds remarkably ill-advised.”   
  
“So was falling in love with him in the first place.” Coulson took a few steps forward, and placed his arm on Natasha’s forearm -- a gesture she would have allowed very few people to make. “Natasha. Torturing yourself as some kind of... universal penance isn’t doing you any good, is it?”   
  
“It’s not _not_ doing me good.”   
  
“Sitwell says you’ve been distracted.”  
  
“Sitwell’s an ass.”   
  
Coulson’s mouth got as close to approximating a smile as it ever got. “Well. There is that. Just -- go. It can’t break him anymore than he already is.”   
  
“Well. More emboldening words of encouragement have never been spoken.”   
  
Coulson shrugged. “Yeah, well, I never claimed to be a poet.”   
  
“Well.” Natasha drew her shoulders back and winked. “There is that.”   
  
**  
  
  
“So Steve is thinking of asking Darcy to move in with him,” Pepper said, as they moved around each other in the bathroom, getting ready for their day.   
  
This was honestly one of Tony’s favorite things about having a girlfriend. Watching Pepper Potts put herself together -- taming the hair, smoothing on the creams and the paints and dressing impeccably was one of his secret thrills. It was like getting to look under KISS’s masks, only more awesome, because it didn’t ruin the magic of Pepper. Possibly because the magic of KISS had been not knowing... and the magic of Pepper was _more_ knowledge.   
  
Tony shrugged. Philosophy had never been his strong suit.   
  
“Are you listening to me?”   
  
“Honestly? No. I’ve been contemplating your shoulders. Can you wear that towel all day long? Because I want to nib--”  
  
Pepper cut him off, firing up her straightening iron. “--hm, no. I was planning on going out in public today actually.”  
  
“Why? That’s why we have Happy.”  
  
“--because I don’t let men who aren’t listening to me nibble on my shoulders.” She started the work of spraying strands of her hair with something protective and applying heat.  
  
“The popsicle and my personal assistant, cohabitating, huh?”  
  
“You _were_ listening.”   
  
“Yes.” Tony waved a hand. “I can think and listen at the same time. It’s impressive, I know.”   
  
“Why would you --”  
  
“Because you get this little line, right here, on your forehead, when you’re completely exasperated with me, and I find it _devastatingly_ sexy.” Tony ran his thumb across Pepper’s forehead and kissed her cheek, careful to avoid the heat of the iron.  
  
“Tony.” Pepper had been saying his name that way for more than a decade, and he had only recently found that it was the one she used when she was feeling equal parts frustration and love.  
  
“Am I supposed to care about this?” Tony asked, reaching for the shaving cream, not missing how Pepper stilled her work on her hair to watch him, for just a second. “I’ve been told I care too much about her personal life.”   
  
“She’s just not used to having people care, I think,” Pepper said, her eyes going a bit distant.   
  
“You do?”   
  
“Hm. Didn’t you read her file?”  
  
“I perused it.”    
  
“You got to the part about Thor and you stopped, didn’t you?”   
  
“I haven’t read a personnel file with any real intent for decades, Pep, and you know that. Why change now?”   
  
“I just get the impression she’s been taking care of herself for a long time.”   
  
“That would explain why she’s so _terrifyingly_ good at it,” Tony said, concentrating on making the trim of his beard precise.   
  
“Hm, yes,” Pepper said, something suspicious going with her face. “Just like I was. It’s just that...”   
  
“Wait. What’s happening here? You’re not tearing up on me, are you?”  
  
“No.” Pepper straightened. “Of course not. I just... I see a lot of a young Virginia Potts in Darcy, you know?”  
  
“So what you’re saying is, you’ve got an opinion about this Darcy and Steve thing, and you want to tell me what it is, right? Just like with Phil and the cellist and how we were supposed to root for them because he needed something good in his life?”   
  
Pepper laughed. “Yes. Something like that. I -- just think we should root for them. I think they’re good for each other, don’t you?”   
  
“He certainly is less of a stuck up pain in the ass than he used to be,” Tony said. “And Darcy was always awesome.”   
  
“But I think she worries less.” Pepper nodded. “I think it’s a good thing. So, if Steve comes to talk to you about it...”   
  
“And here we are at the meat of the thing,” Tony said.   
  
“...I think you should be supportive and helpful.”   
  
Tony wrinkled his nose. “I don’t do either of those things very well.”   
  
“In your own special fashion, of course.” Pepper kissed his cheek.   
  
“You know, before I started sleeping with you on a regular basis, I didn’t give a shit about anyone else’s romantic entanglements. You remember that, right?”   
  
“You were something of an egomaniacal selfish bastard, though,” Pepper said, turning off her straightening iron and starting to work on her face, which involved a number of jars in a specific order.   
  
“You could make the argument that I still am,” Tony said.   
  
“Yes, but now you’ve got me,” Pepper said, “and you -- you relax me. I have fun with you. And I help you remember that it’s not always about you. Right?”   
  
“Right. Sometimes it’s about your shoulders.” Tony wiped the shaving cream off of his face and nibbled on the very tempting clavicle bone that Pepper left out to tempt him, he was sure.   
  
“Tony.” The way Pepper said his name now was something else entirely. It was the sexy way. A sort of hitch in the breath and an expulsion of air and...  
  
“Sir?”   
  
“JARVIS, I swear to God, we are about to go all _2001:  A Space Odyssey_ , in reverse.”   
  
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but you wanted to be informed when Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster were ready to begin the final experiment.”   
  
Tony hung his head. “I did, didn’t I.”   
  
Pepper patted his cheek. “Don’t worry. We can have sex later.”   
  
“Do you promise?”   
  
“Hm. Lifetime guarantee,” she said. “Go put on some pants and change the world.”   
  
“The world? We’re about to change the fabric of the universe, Pep.”   
  
“Never doubted you for a second.”   
  
Tony might have preened a little at the pride in her voice, but he was a little busy shoving his feet into boxers.  
  
**  
  
 _They had few rules about their relationship. They couldn’t afford many, really. Monogamy was nearly out of the question -- the job required they sleep with other people from time to time. They couldn’t be obvious, or the Kremlin would wipe all of their memories of each other clean, and those were the memories they clung to tightly._  
  
 _They met rarely, in houses they acquired clandestinely. They arrived separately, days apart. They passed messages through no one else._  
  
 _They were so careful for so long, it was a complete shock when it all came to an end._  
  
**  
  
Loki had failed Thanos -- and for a while, he’d told himself that being in Odin’s custody, under Odin’s care, no matter how awful, would be nothing compared to what Thanos would have in store for him, but he’d cracked. He’d never done well in isolation -- he craved attention and people, of any sort, though preferably those mindless enough to follow him but intelligent enough to recognize his brilliance -- and that, combined with the endless pain, and led him to throw himself at the feet of his former torturer.  
  
After he let out the cry, he was afraid Thanos hadn’t heard him -- or maybe he was afraid Thanos had.   
  
He waited for a long moment. Nothing happened. Some part of him sank in despair. The other felt profound relief.  
  
And then he felt a tug on his chest that he hadn’t felt for a very, very long time.  
  
And then... heat. He found himself in a room surrounded on all sides by fire. A fire so intense that it would have marred the skin of Thor.   
  
For an ice giant, it would normally have been fatal. But Loki was magic. And Thanos hadn’t failed to account for that.  
  
A voice rang out through the room. “For your failures, you burn, son of Odin. Until such time as you may serve me again.”   
  
**  
  
  
Bucky tossed a piece of paper into the air and caught it as it came down. He’d been challenging himself to throw it to the exact same height and catch it at the exact same height every time. So far, he’d managed to accomplish this feat one hundred and eighty-six times. He wasn’t so wrapped up in his game that he didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps, though. The hand not involved in catching and throwing palmed the shiv he’d stored under his bed.  
  
He didn’t sit up -- his visitors inevitably announced themselves -- usually Steve had his girlfriend, who sometimes brought books (the blank pages of one had been sacrificed in a ball-making effort), or the agent, Coulson, who would press him for any and all information on... anything. Or the doctors, who poked and prodded and drew blood and generally treated him like a lab experiment gone wrong.   
  
Which, come to think of it, was exactly what he was.  
  
“We played this game together in Russia, once,” a voice he more than half-remembered said from the other side of his window. “You have not the patience to beat my record.”   
  
“ _You_!” Bucky was up and across the room, snarling at the window in seconds. “What are you doing here?”   
  
“I work here,” the woman said evenly.  
  
He couldn’t remember her name. But he could remember the smell of her. He could remember the taste of her. The way her body moved under, and over his. The comfort her arms in the cold. Her voice in the dark. Her mouth, forming words profane and sacred next to his ear, doing magical things to his mouth, to his cock, to his body.   
  
“I fucked you,” he said, watching her eyes. Somehow he knew that was the part of her to watch.  
  
“You did. And I fucked you,” the woman said. “Several times. Sometimes... it was more than that.”   
  
He closed his eyes and caught a flash of something...   
  
_“The Kremlin has eyes everywhere.”_  
  
 _“Stay.”_  
  
 _“Not if we both wish to remain in tact, Tasha. Soon, though...”_  
  
 _Stepping out of the room they shared. The room only they knew. Pain, as a bullet ripped into his chest. Betrayal._  
  
“Tasha.”   
  
The woman’s eyes lit up. She tried to hide it, but they did. “Yes.”   
  
“The traitor.” Bucky banged his fist on the window and watched her jump. “Come in here so I can kill you, you _son of a cocksucking whore_.”   
  
“No.”   
  
“You left me to die.”  
  
“No.”   
  
“I bled out and you did nothing, you _cunt!_ ”   
  
“No, I didn’t. I swear to God, I don’t know what you’re talking about, James.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about. James, I would never have... never.”   
  
“Get the fuck out. I don’t want to see you.” Bucky -- no. James. _James_. James turned away. “I don’t want to see you, Natasha.”   
  
“They followed us.” Natasha didn’t move, tears streaming down her face. “They held me back and made me watch. They made me watch, James. While they bled you dry. And I thought there was no way... I’m sorry. I thought... I gave up. I watched them put you in the ground. I would have never, ever let them do that to you -- let them bring you back, if I had known. I promise, I wouldn’t have.”   
  
His head pounded, threatening to escape out of his ears. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know who to believe.”   
  
“I know. I know that it’s all very confusing right now. And I know that there’s no way to find a solid footing. And I know this isn’t fair, but I haven’t got a chance to say this in decades.” Natasha pressed her palm to the glass. “James, I love you.”   
  
He fisted his hand so tight that his fingernails cut into the skin of his palm. “I remember you saying that before.”   
  
“It was true then, and it’s true now.” Her tears had dried. “My friends are working on a way to help you. They’re pretty good at... well, pretty much everything they put their minds to. Then you’ll know the truth. Then you’ll know what’s real. And you’ll know that it’s me.”   
  
James did not move until she left.  
  
**  
  
  
“Lewis!” Tony looked slightly insane as Darcy inserted the lab with three giant cups of coffee. “There you are, you angel of caffeine!”   
  
“Good morning, Tony,” Darcy said with an eyeroll.  
  
“Hand over the liquid glory,” Tony said, holding out his hand. “You’re just in time to witness history.”   
  
“Oh?” Steve walked in the door behind Darcy.   
  
“Was it bring-your-boyfriend-to-work day?” Tony asked.   
  
“No.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “It’s actually my day off. I’m just here to support a friend.”   
  
Dr. Banner looked up from where he was fiddling with the controls of a machine. “She’s right, it is Saturday, Tony.”   
  
“Then why am _I_ working?”   
  
“Because you don’t trust me not to blow up your tower,” Jane said.  
  
“In all fairness, that has as much to do with Banner as it has to do with you.”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
“Actually, Tony just can’t stand to be left out of playing with shiny things, can you?” Pepper Potts slid in the room behind Steve.   
  
“Babe! You made it!”   
  
“You made it sound important,” Pepper said with a smile. “Plus, I haven’t really got a chance to meet this Thor person. I thought it might be worth taking a few minutes out of my day.”   
  
“You’re not going to regret that decision. Dude is _stacked_ ,” Darcy said.  
  
Steve coughed.   
  
“If you like that sort of thing,” Darcy said, smirking. “Plus, you know, he’s very much Jane’s. You’ll see it when he gets here. It’s disgusting.”   
  
Pepper hid her mouth behind her hand, but Tony had no such qualms.  
  
“Pot, kettle: black, Lewis,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together.   
  
“Hey, guys,” Agent Barton said, opening the door for himself and Agent Romanov. “We heard something major was going down so we thought we’d come up and check it out.”  
  
Jane cleared her throat. “I’ve uh... never had such a large audience for an experiment before.”   
  
“It’s awesome, right?” Tony said, sticking a piece of gum in his mouth and beaming brightly. “All right, folks. Let’s rip a hole in the universe.”   
  
**  
  
Heimdall watched in amusement, his smile slowly growing. “Come on, little mortal woman. You can do it.”   
  
**  
  
The fabric of the universe stretched, and reset and grew and solidified and...  
  
**  
  
On the other side of the universe, Thor cheered. “She has done it! My lady Jane has done it!”   
  
“Don’t just stand here shouting in my ear,” Heimdall said. “Go to her!”   
  
Thor lept on the bridge and waved a hand in farewell.  
  
**  
  
“Oh my God,” Pepper said, as Thor appeared in a burst of blue light. “You were right. He’s totally stacked. And … kissing Jane. A lot. ...Wow. Are they going to, you know... breathe?”   
  
Clint cleared his throat. It did no good.  
  
“Here’s a suggestion,” he said. “Let’s hit them up in like.... twenty-four hours.”   
  
“Good idea,” Darcy said, her eyes wide. “HEY! HEY THOR!”   
  
“LADY DARCY!” Thor boomed, his arm around Jane. “It is with much joy that I behold your face again!”   
  
“Good to see you too, buddy,” Darcy said, her voice tinged with amusement. “Can I suggest that if you and Jane are going to suck so much face, you go to her room?”   
  
Jane flushed. “Darcy!”   
  
“What? Just saying. Get reacquainted. We’ll see you guys later, right? We’ll set something up via text.”   
  
“I do not wish to abandon my friends who have assembled to greet me, but I … desire very much to...”   
  
“No worries, buddy,” Tony said. “Jane’s quarters are uh... just down the hall and to the left.”   
  
“Excellent!”   
  
Thor and Jane took off down the hallway. Bruce removed his glasses and wiped them off on his pants.   
  
“Well. That was... successful.”  
  
Darcy covered her mouth and chuckled. “Steve, do you want to maybe...”   
  
“Go somewhere else?”  
  
“Yes.”   
  
Tony stuck his hands in his pockets. “Super job, team! What's left of us, here. Uh. Well.  That pretty much clears up the rest of my day.”  
  
**  
  
Steve wrapped his arm around Darcy as they started to walk home. “So. It’s sort of a beautiful day outside.”   
  
“Yeah.” Darcy squeezed his waist.   
  
They walked in silence for a few minutes.  
  
“So --”  
  
“So --”   
  
Darcy laughed. “Okay, you first.”   
  
“I’ve been, uh... doing some thinking,” Steve said, walking past Darcy’s apartment. “And I think that maybe -- I’ve been told that in this century, I mean... I'm starting to think maybe your place is getting a little crowded and...  Do you want to try the whole, uh... living together thing?”   
  
Darcy grinned. “Yeah, actually. I’ve been thinking that, too. But -- I think we should find some place that’s ours, you know? Because my place is too small, and your place is in Brooklyn.”   
  
Steve nodded, slowly. “I... think that’s good. I think that’s a good idea.”   
  
“We can do some looking online later?” Darcy asked. “I kind of want to just... walk.”   
  
Steve bent down and kissed her cheek. And neither one of them noticed the photographer snapping pictures of them from a hundred feet away.


End file.
